Help!
by tartan-angel
Summary: Daniel McGonagall needs some help... his mother wants to stay for Christmas! Watch as he turns to Minerva McAllister for help and they become closer than ever.
1. I need your help!

_A/N: Inspired by an episode of 30 Rock. :-) Remember kiddies, I don't own Harry Potter's universe :( But I do own Daniel and Annabelle McG!_

* * *

"Minerva! Minerva, snap out of it! You_ have _to help me!" Daniel McGonagall had just rushed into the office of Head Auror, Minerva McAllister, and caught its owner in a daydream; something she frequently did when trying to avoid the constant stack of paperwork on her desk.

"W-what?" she replied with a rather dazed expression.

"Wake up, Missus. I need your help urgently."

"It's not another one of Alastor's idiotic ideas of a practical joke, is it? Because - if it is - I'm rather busy."

"I can see that," Daniel said sarcastically. "Besides, you used to like Alastor's jokes."

"That was before I was responsible for cleaning up his messes," Minerva answered shortly.

"So hypocritical! Anyway, back to the point, I require your assistance."

"And why would that be?"

"It's my mother."

"Annabelle? Is she alright?" Minerva asked worriedly.

"Yes, she's fine. It's just that… she's coming to stay with me for Christmas."

"Is that it?"

"Yes!"

"Why on earth do you need my help, then?"

"Don't you see? It's _my _mother. She criticises _everything_. Nothing is _ever_ good enough for her. _Ever._"

"And why exactly should I help you?"

"Because you, sweet angel of mercy, have a heart so big that you help everybody you can." Daniel said sweetly. "And you know you want to help me."

"Hmm… I don't know, Dan, I'm going to have to think about it…"

"Ah, come on, Min, don't leave me hanging here!"

"Geez, Dan, seriously. I suppose I could help you."

"Really? Oh, Minerva McAllister you are my hero. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, spinning around quickly.

"Dan, put me down!"

Ignoring her desperate pleas, he walked straight out of the office, into a room full of various desks behind which sat an assortment of different witches and wizards. The air was filled with little paper bird-shaped memorandums whizzing around.

It was five days until Christmas so the whole office had insisted that the Minister should let them decorate the offices. Minerva would have done it without his permission anyway, but it was the principle of the thing. There were strange sparkly ornaments dangling from the ceiling, tinsel littering the many desks and a huge Christmas tree decorated in gold, blue, silver and red (it just so happened that all of the Aurors at the time had been Ravenclaws and Gryffindors) in the corner.

"Attention my friends. This woman – our boss lady – is a saint. Literally," Daniel announced loudly.

"Honestly, Dan, put me down," Minerva said, lightly hammering her fists on his back.

"Don't worry, Dan, she likes it really," Alastor Moody added cheekily.

"Oi, Moody! You had better watch your back!" Minerva shouted back.

"He can't do that, Min," Alaysia Grenfell interjected, "he's too busy watching yours instead!"

"Alright, alright," Daniel surrendered, lowering Minerva to her feet. She brushed off her robes and ran a hand through her long black hair.

"Alright, back to work people. Oh, and don't forget, Alastor, the Minister wants to see you about that request you submitted last week."

It was the twentieth of December and Minerva McAllister was just closing up the Auror office for the Christmas holidays. She was about to head home and pack her bag, ready to be picked up by Daniel, when said man turned up right behind her.

"Thank you so much for doing this, Minerva," he said gratefully.

"Woah! Honestly, you are going to give me heart attack one day!"

"I should hope not, you're only… what, like forty?"

"Daniel McGonagall! I am twenty three!"

"Just kidding. But, I'm really so grateful to you; that woman is already driving me insane and she only turned up an hour ago. If you weren't coming I think the Ministry might have been dealing with a murder."

"She's your mother, Dan. Maybe you should give her a shot. I mean, I would give anything to have my mother back…"

"Oh… oh, Merlin, I'm sorry… I didn't think…"

"Oh, you've got nothing to worry about. Right, I'm off home to pack my bag. Something tells me that you are in no rush to get home, am I right?" Daniel nodded in reply. "In that case, do you want to pop home with me while I pack a bag and then we can get going?"

"Sure, why not?" So they Flooed to Minerva's Scottish manor house from the Ministry foyer.

They reappeared in a warm hallway with sea blue walls and dark wooden flooring. A light scent of lavender floated into the room from an open window looking out onto an enormous field. Daniel let out a low whistle.

"You live here?"

"No, Dan, I'm just trespassing in a random place."

"Funny, really funny," Daniel replied sarcastically.

"My, my, you are easily impressed. This is only my hallway. You wait until you see the living room."

Minerva flung open a large door to their right and Dan followed her into a huge room. It had a fireplace that stretched almost the whole length of the back wall, no less than three bookcases, and the biggest, most wonderful Christmas tree Daniel McGonagall had ever seen. Minerva flicked her wand lazily at the fireplace, which promptly burst into flames, illuminating the room with its glowing embers.

"I thought you didn't celebrate Christmas," Dan said in total awe.

"You never asked," Minerva answered simply. "Besides, who was it that told the Minister we were decorating the office."

Five minutes later, Daniel and Minerva were ready to depart.

"I have to say that - for a woman - you're pretty quick packing."

"Sexism doesn't wash with me, Dan," replied Minerva.

"Wow, so many flirting possibilities are coming from that sentence."

"Daniel McGonagall!" Minerva exclaimed in mock disgust. "Now, do you need my help or not?"

"You know I do."

"Well then," she wrapped her arm around Daniel's as they prepared to Apparate away.

"My lady." And they were gone.

With a loud crack, the witch and the wizard appeared on a cliff edge overlooking the Cornish sea.

"Oh, Merlin!" exclaimed Minerva. "You live here?"

"Ooh, now there's some déjà vu for you. And yes, yes I do. That – right there -" he began, pointing at a beach surrounded by a sea wall and high cliffs with little caves in their faces, "- is Portreath beach."

They turned a corner and stood opposite a secluded little cottage with old sash windows.

"How could you not want to come back here?" asked an astounded Minerva.

"Wait until you see what's inside."


	2. Meet mother

Daniel led Minerva up to the front door of the cottage and pushed it open without waiting for admittance. It led them into a small porch that was surprisingly warm and smelt strongly of the sea's salt spray.

"Mother! I'm back."

"In here, Danny!" An alto voice called from a room off to their left.

Minerva looked at Daniel in disbelief:

"_Danny_? You have got to be kidding me."

"I told you she was a nightmare," he replied apprehensively. "Just follow me, Minerva. I'll make sure she doesn't rip your head off."

"Are you calling me a coward now?"

"Don't even go there, sister."

"_Sister_? Please tell me you never said that."

"You keep telling yourself that, darling," he laughed walking into the occupied room. "Good morning mother. Um, my friend Minerva will be staying with us over the holidays."

Minerva stepped into the breezy room and saw, sat in a plump black armchair, a lady she vaguely remembered from her childhood. She had shoulder-length platinum blonde hair that had very wispy ends and her dark obsidian eyes were fixed like a peckish vulture on Minerva.

"Good morning, Annabelle. How are you?"

"Ah, Alessandra and Murray's youngest. I haven't seen you in years. My, you have grown." She spoke with a sharp English accent.

_Yes,_ thought Minerva, _that does tend to happen. _But she bit her tongue.

"So, Minerva – was it? Tell me, what is it you do for a living?" asked Annabelle.

"Actually, Mum, she's the head of my department," Daniel answered for Minerva.

"Oh, well... you are quite young for that. You must have remarkable... talent," she looked Minerva up and down and the Scottish witch could tell exactly what she was implying.

"Well, I'm sure that being the youngest trained Auror in centuries and battling in the war against Grindelwald before I left Hogwarts constitutes a little recognition."

Daniel looked nervously between his mother and friend; nobody had ever stood up to his mother. This was going to be an interesting vacation.

When she realised that she was not going to be able to stare Minerva down, Annabelle turned back to her son.

"So, are you two courting?"

Daniel and Minerva looked awkwardly at each other for a moment.

"Er..."

"Um, yes. Yes we are," Minerva answered lightly. She looked at Daniel. Knowing of his Legilmens ability, Minerva thought '_I thought it might get her off of your back_.' The look he gave her told him her that she understood.

"Oh... is that so?"

"Yes, mother." Daniel said, pulling Minerva closer in a side-hug and wrapping one hand around her waist. Minerva leant her head on his shoulder.

"Well," began Annabelle, sighing, "in that case, I don't want any funny business while I'm here."

"Don't worry, mum. Anyway, Minerva, let me show you to your room."

~*~

Minerva laid down her bag on a soft white double bed in the airy bedroom.

"Right," Daniel began, "my mother has gone and bagged the spare room so, if it's okay with you I'll just sleep on the floor; if I go and sleep on the sofa, she'll know something's not quite right."

"Don't be daft. You take your own bed and I'll transfigure something into another one for me," suggested Minerva.

"You'll never fit another bed in here," said Daniel glumly.

"Well I'll sleep on the floor then."

"No I insist, you are a guest, therefore you must be comfortable and take the bed."

"Merlin, Dan, you are so awkward. Anyway, I'm your boss, if I tell you to take the bed, you must take the bed."

"That is just so unprofessional. Look at us, not more than five minutes dating and we're already arguing." Daniel joked.

"Well, if we can't decide on who sleeps in the bed, maybe we should just share it." Minerva couldn't believe those words had just come from her mouth.

"Ooh er missus! You saucy little minx!"

"Dan! Come on, we're both sensible adults... _well_... close enough. I'm sure we can be mature about this."

"Well, I suppose so. By the way, thanks for doing this."

"No problem," Minerva smiled. "Now, I'm going to unpack my bag so why don't you go and talk to your mother for a bit?"

"But - " Daniel began childishly.

"GO!"

He sloped off quietly while Minerva began to unpack her clothes.

~*~

Daniel sat down opposite his mother on a long black sofa. She was giving him that penetrating look that told him that she disapproved of something. She was biting her thin lower lip.

"What is it this time, Mother?"

"Well, that Minerva girl; there's something strange about her."

"Like what?"

"I don't know really... she's a bit... in-your-face."

"She's confident, that's all," replied Daniel defensively.

"She's all high-and-mighty."

"No she's not."

"And she's so thin," Annabelle carried on regardless of Daniel's interruption. "How on earth is a woman like that supposed to carry children?"

"Hang on a second! You're thinking a little far ahead, aren't you?" Daniel spluttered.

"You can't hold back the future, Danny."

Daniel mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Head of the Auror Department? In my day, a woman would be lucky to be an Auror, let alone head of the whole department. I wonder how many she slept with to get there?"

"Mother! I will not have you talking about Minerva like that," said Daniel in actual rage. "Besides, there have been female Aurors for centuries!"

"Well," Annabelle continued, though only a little more subdued, "the fact remains; I do _not_ like that girl."

Little did Annabelle and Daniel know that Minerva had heard every word.


	3. Odd emotions

Minerva walked into the living room with a false smile across her face. Anybody who knew her could tell that that was not a good thing and Daniel did. Annabelle, however, was none the wiser. Minerva sat down next to Daniel and planted a light kiss on his cheek as he wrapped his right arm around her shoulders.

"Ah, Minerva," said Annabelle, "we were just discussing dinner for tonight."

"Oh, really," Minerva replied loftily, trying desperately not to grit her teeth or explode in rage.

"Yes, I was thinking of cooking a beef casserole. You're not one of those vegetarian types, are you?"

"No, not at all."

"Good."

The silence grew more and more over-bearing in the atmosphere. So much so that Daniel found himself desperately trying to find something to raise a discussion and banish the icy chill that resided over their heads.

"So, er, have you heard anything from Bernardo, Min?"

"No, actually. I do worry about him sometimes. He can go for weeks without returning my owls."

"Who is Bernardo?" Annabelle asked curiously.

"He's my eldest brother." Minerva explained. "He's been living in India since I was seven. You know Bernardo, don't you?"

"No, no. I'm sure I've never met him," Annabelle replied. A lie. She knew full well who he was and had met him several times; she just wanted to see if this Minerva was dedicated to her family. You see, in Annabelle's eyes, this was all a chance to see if this girl was worthy of her son. And so the inquisition began.

"Minerva," she continued, "how did you enjoy school?"

"Oh, I loved Hogwarts. I'd actually like to go back to teach there one day, if I got the chance."

"You got all Os on your exams, didn't you, darling?" Daniel knew this for a fact; no harm in convincing his mother a little further, was there?

"Yes, I did," Minerva replied simply, beginning to feel a little awkward about this questioning.

"Are you planning on having children?" Annabelle inquired.

"Erm... well, we haven't really talked about it, have we sweetheart? I mean, I think I would like to but it's a bit early to be thinking about that, isn't it?" Minerva stumbled over her words.

"Oh," was all that Annabelle said back.

"Oh, how very rude of me!" exclaimed Minerva. "Let me help you with dinner, Annabelle." She would be glad to find an excuse to leave the tension-filled room.

"No, dear, I insist. You two just sit here." And with that, she swept from the room, her deep purple robes swishing at her feet.

"Thank Merlin for that!" said Daniel. "I'm so sorry that she's so... well, that she's herself, really."

"No, no, Dan. Don't worry. I'm used to dealing with difficult people; I work with _you_, remember?"

"Oi! Cheeky!" Dan said, squeezing her tighter. The two sat in companionable silence for several minutes.

"You know, you can let go of my shoulder now."

"What if I don't want to?" he teased.

"What do you mean?" Minerva didn't know that he actually meant what he said.

"DINNER'S READY!" Annabelle called from the adjacent kitchen. _Saved by the witch! _Thought Daniel.

~*~

After dinner was done, the trio returned to the living room but Daniel, thankfully, saved Minerva another interrogation by offering to show her his private library. The library was a surprisingly large room that utterly lived up to its name; three of the four walls were covered in books and there was a pair of comfortable chintz armchairs in the centre of the room. It, to Minerva, was reminiscent of a mini Flourish and Blotts, of sorts.

"Oh, Dan, it's beautiful in here." Minerva stood by a gaping window on the other side of the room that looked straight out onto the lower beach.

"I know," he replied, joining her by the window. "Here, I thought you might like to read this one." Daniel presented her with a small hardback book with a moving picture of a cat on the front cover. The title was _'Annie the Animagus'._

"Dan, are you kidding me? This is a children's book."

"I know, but it reminded me of you."

"Well thank you."

After another couple of hours, Minerva decided that she was going to retire to bed and Daniel said he would join her. He went to change in the bathroom while Minerva changed in his bedroom. He pulled on a pair of dark blue pyjamas and knocked on the door a few minutes later.

"Come in," was the reply from inside his bedroom.

He entered and found Minerva brushing her long ebony tresses by the mirror. She wore a silk red nightgown that reached to just above her knee. Daniel lost his train of thought for a moment. When he regained his mind, he quickly slipped into the bed and tried not to be distracted by the sweet mirage that was Minerva McAllister. He just didn't need things to get awkward. Well... more awkward than they already were, anyway. A minute later Minerva slid into the bed next to him.

"Goodnight, Dan."

"Goodnight, Minerva," he replied, secretly relishing in the warmth of her breath tickling his skin. What was he thinking?

Whatever it was, he was absolutely no good could come of it...


	4. Seaside Sentiment

Daniel McGonagall woke early the next morning, six o'clock to be exact, but was met with a disappointing sight. Despite the early hour, Minerva was out of bed; Dan was greeted only by the cold morning air and the lingering scent of lavender left from Minerva's presence.

_Oh no, _he thought, _what if she heard what I was thinking?_

He absent-mindedly dressed and searched around the cottage in an attempt to find his house guest, but all to no avail. She was nowhere to be seen. Daniel sighed and walked towards the window of the living room, though he didn't actually know why; it was like he was a magpie being drawn to the shimmering waves that graced the beach. Then he saw it:

A lone figure meandering slowly along the water's edge, a long white skirt flapping about its knees in the breeze. It had to be her. He rushed out of the cottage, ignoring his disgruntled mother's cries of "Where are you going?", and practically sprinted down the hill. Struggling for breath, he reached the cold sea wall. He could see her walking along the beach, leaving only faint footprints as a reminder of her ever having been there. Her long raven hair flowed out behind her, occasionally whipping her face in the wind but she made no sign that she was conscious of such actions.

One minute, the sea hardly dared to approach her bare feet, the next, it confidently sprayed her with salty droplets. Yet she still seemed to be drifting off into her own little dream world. How very vexing.

_The Goddess namesake was certainly appropriate. _Soon after, Daniel scolded himself for such thoughts. _She's your boss. Snap out of it! _He walked nearer to the figure and called out her name:

"Minerva!" She turned, startled by the sudden outburst from somewhere behind her. It was Dan.

_What on earth did he come down here for? Merlin, he looks good though. Oh, shut up, Minerva! _

"Dan? What are you doing down here?" she asked as he drew nearer to her.

"I-I saw you from the house... I just thought you might... get cold," he stammered by way of reply.

"Oh."

"Look... Minerva I have to tell you something."

"Me too," she could feel his warm breath on her face now.

"Well, you go first."

"No, you go."

"No, I insist."

"Dan, don't start this again," she smiled.

"Sorry. It's just... well - I don't know how to say it really – but I think... I think I might..."

"Dan?"

"I think I might love you..." he uttered. He looked at her face to try to gauge some sort of reaction from her but he was not so lucky. Her face bore no tell-tale sign of any emotion. _Oh Merlin, I am an idiot! She'll hate me know._

"Minerva, I'm sorry. I'll just -" he made to leave but was stopped by Minerva's hand closing around his arm. He looked deep into her eyes and before either of them could think, their lips met in heated kiss that rapidly grew in intensity. Daniel took the initiative and deepened the kiss, eliciting a slight moan from Minerva's throat. His arms wound around her waist and hers snaked around his neck. For a moment they lost the world.

When they finally broke apart, slightly dizzy due to lack of oxygen, Daniel looked directly into Minerva's eyes (owing to Minerva's extraordinarily long legs, they were just about the same height).

"I-I... I'm sorry, Dan, I don't... don't know what I was thinking," she all but whispered.

"Don't worry. Whatever it was, I was thinking the same thing," he smiled and pulled her into a warm embrace.

Little did they know, a certain somebody had seen it all.

* * *

_A/N: I do apologize for updating such a short chapter but I prefered to end it as I did (10 House points to anyone who reviews to correctly guess who the certain someone is!) but, to slightly make up for it, I promise to update the next chapter very soon. Please review; I do love them so :)_

_COMING UP: A harassing Howler, mysterious mistletoe, unexpected underwear (not a la Bridget Jones!) and a kooky kin! :)_


	5. Of Howlers and underwear

_A/N: Sorry, I did intend to put this up earlier in the week but was distracted by the glittery white snow we've had. :) _

The pair walked back up to Daniel's cottage arm-in-arm, chattering lightly all the way. It seemed they had both realised that they did, in fact, want to be more than friends and neither seemed to mind. Minerva sighed contentedly as she rested her head on his shoulder. As they drew nearer to the front door, it was propelled open by Annabelle, who had just witnessed something extremely odd.

"Oh, good morning, Annabelle," said Minerva brightly. "You're up early."

"By no means is this early," she replied in a cold tone. Annabelle walked straight passed them, brandishing her wand and approaching a large overgrown rosebush opposite the door. Daniel and Minerva went to get breakfast, leaving Annabelle to potter about the small garden in her thick woollen cardigan and black trousers.

The two couldn't help smiling at each other over the dinner table for the entirety of their breakfast. Until, that is, halfway through their modest meal of toast and fresh orange juice, a harassed-looking barn owl swooped between them. Tied to its leg was a scarlet red envelope with the McAllister family seal. It flew away without waiting for a reward.

"Oh no. Oh no," Minerva repeated. She pointed her wand at the envelope. "_Incedio_." Nothing happened. The letter picked itself up and began shouting in a rough Scottish tone:

"_Minerva McAllister! Where on God's green earth are you? You are supposed to be the responsible one! If you don't let me know you're not staying for Christmas, what hope is there for the others? Send me an owl before we all start sending out a search party, will you? "_ The letter tore itself up into hundreds of tiny pieces.

"My little sister," Minerva explained. "I completely forgot to tell her that I was staying here for Christmas."

"Well, that was interesting," said a voice from behind Minerva. _Great,_ Minerva thought, _she HAD to hear that, didn't she? _ In Annabelle's mind, this was a very interesting development. This girl obviously was not as perfect as she looked, then.

"Um, excuse me," said Minerva, "it seems I have a letter to write." She went upstairs to retrieve a quill.

Meanwhile, Annabelle shot Daniel a glance that plainly said _I warned you about that girl._

"Don't look at me like that, mum. Minerva's done nothing wrong."

"Not a very considerate one, is she?"

"Just leave it, will you? Stop hassling her... and me, for that matter!" He stormed out of the room to escape more of his mother's annoyance.

Upstairs in the study, Minerva was writing a letter to her younger sister, Renata, to apologize for her absence. Daniel appeared at the door within a few short moments.

"I am so sorry about my mum. I really don't know why she's like this with everybody," he announced sincerely.

"It's no trouble, Dan. I already told you. Besides, I'm a big girl, I can quite handle myself," she smiled. "Oh shoot, my quill's broken. Could you do me a favour and fetch the spare one from my bag please, Dan?"

"Of course. It will cost you though," he jested.

"I'm sure it will," Minerva replied slyly.

Dan crossed the well-lit landing to the other end of the first floor and went back into the bedroom. He found Minerva's black bag sitting on the floor next to the full-length mirror. He searched through it in an attempt to locate the elusive quill and along the way found some quite unexpected underwear. It was unexpected in that he had never thought Minerva to be the kind who would go for a red bra covered in black lacy flower patterns. _Wait... focus! Find the quill! Yeah... get to it, Dan! _

He found it a second later and hastened back towards the study to pass it on to Minerva. Maybe he should have some fun with his new discovery.

"Ah, I found it, Minerva. I tell you, that bag of yours is _laced_ with everything from the kitchen sink to _big cups_. Why do you need to put stuff like that in there?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Dan. Thank you for the quill, anyway." She wore a slightly confused expression as Dan tried very hard not to burst out laughing. "Really, what has you on the verge of tears of laughter?"

"Oh, nothing...nothing..."

"I don't believe you. But to be honest, I don't think I want to know what it is." Daniel and Minerva sat for a while longer while the latter finished her letter and attached it to the leg of Daniel's snowy owl, Falcon.

"Why on earth did you call your owl Falcon? You'll confuse the poor dear."

"If I told you, you'd laugh."

"Promise I won't," Minerva smiled.

"It was because he tried to rip my face apart with his claws," Daniel sighed. Minerva just could not believe that the sweet little owl that was nudging her arm with its head had tried to 'rip his face apart'. She couldn't help but laugh.

"You promised!"

"I lied!"

"Well, I suppose you'll have to be punished then," he said in a faux strict tone. He lunged towards her and began tickling her mercilessly.

"Ah... Dan... no... s-stop... please..." she managed to mutter between giggles.

Just at that moment, Annabelle appeared at the door wearing a shocked expression. Daniel quickly let go of Minerva and they nervously smoothed down their robes and hair. Daniel cleared his throat as a way of asking what his mother was playing at.

"If you are quite finished, there is a visitor downstairs who would very much like to see you." The pair shuffled passed her like naughty school children who had been sent to see the headmaster. "Er, Minerva," Annabelle called to Minerva. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

"Of course." Daniel stopped in his tracks as well but Minerva told him that she would meet him downstairs and he sloped off silently.

"Now, I from the very first moment you stepped in my house, I thought you had never grown up from when I saw you as a child and from what I just witnessed it would seem that I was right."

"But -" Minerva tried to protest.

"Do not interrupt me. Now," her face was offensively close to Minerva's, but she would not let herself become intimidated by Annabelle, "we wouldn't want you to be a bad influence on my Danny, would we? Hmm?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Annabelle. With the utmost respect, please move out of my way." Minerva slipped around the stunned form of the elder woman. That was the last straw for Annabelle. Perhaps it was time for Plan B.

_A/N: Again, sorry for the wait. The next chapter contains the kooky kin and mysterious mistletoe as previously mentioned. :) _


	6. A Kooky Kin with Mistletoe

_A/N: Gosh, I can't tell you how sorry I am that I haven't updated in, like… a year. However, I have just rediscovered this story and am resolute to bring it to its close… eventually. Now, it is still a Christmas story, so get your stockings out early and read with a steaming mug of cocoa._

* * *

The living room of the small cottage was completely silent. Deathly silent, someone more melodramatic than Daniel might say. Yet, he could not help but feel that the description was appropriate.

The 'visitor' his mother had referred to had turned out to be their middle-aged Muggle neighbor, Donald, who lived just down the Cliffside path. Donald had been looking for someone to help him with a spot of gardening, but Daniel, knowing absolutely nothing about Muggle gardening, had politely declined and had suggested the Johansens from across the way.

Daniel had returned to the living room to find Minerva steadfastly lost in a heavy leather-bound tome. When she was in this state, he knew, there was no hope of getting her to talk. His mother had said something to her, he was sure, and it cannot have been pleasant to have Minerva turn straight to the books. He had been flashing apologetic glances at Minerva for the past ten minutes, but her head remained in the book she was reading. Suspiciously, his mother had not made her way downstairs after stumbling upon the couple, and Daniel had a sneaking feeling that Minerva had hexed her and locked her in the wardrobe… or something to that effect. He wouldn't put it past her.

"Danny, dear!" Daniel cringed at his mother's voice. _Just what I need, _he thought.

"Yes, Mother?" When no reply came, Daniel let out a frustrated sigh that he had been holding on to and sprung from his chair. Generally, when she ignored his replies, Annabelle was waiting for him to come to her. With a final glance towards Minerva, he left the living room.

Minerva, glad to finally be alone, dropped the book she held and let her head drop to rest against the brocade sofa. This was childish, wasn't it? She shouldn't be taking Annabelle's problems out on Dan, she knew. But sometimes it is more difficult to do what you should than what you feel like doing.

Minerva had dealt with bigger foes than Annabelle McGonagall.

And she was not about to let her reputation for crushing fools be tainted.

* * *

"Dan!" After a full day of avoiding each other for reasons unknown to Daniel, Minerva had finally managed to hunt her colleague down. _Colleague_? Was he more than that now? Merlin, she hadn't even stopped to consider what was happening with them. She had managed to corner him in the upstairs hallway just after four o'clock.

"Minerva, what can I do for you?" he did not raise his head to look at her as he normally would and it worried her.

"Dan, there is no need to talk to me like we're doing business." She ignored his mumbled apology and moved a soft hand to lightly brush the side of his face. "Tell me what's bothering you."

Daniel's mind momentarily stopped working. She knew. And she was touching him. Okay, she had touched him before, but this time they been utterly confused and he hadn't forced himself on her first. But _she knew_! How could she possibly know? He had only just realized himself what he needed to do! Perhaps she was a Legilimens.

_Oh, look at you! _He thought irately. _Reduced to a wreck by a woman and the notion that she might be able to read minds._

"Erm…" His feeble reply was mercifully cut short by a loud knocking on the door. "You see, I –"

The knocking was growing louder and longer.

"I –"

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

"I have-to-answer-the-door," Dan said hurriedly. Unwillingly, he wrenched himself away from the warm contact of her hand and slipped down the stairs. By the time he reached the door, the person on the other side was on the verge of breaking it down. Just as Dan reached out for the door handle, a cold arm stretched out in front of his chest.

"I'll get it, dear," his mother said in an unusually sing-song voice. Shaking his head and wondering what had taken her so long to reach the door, Daniel turned and made to return to Minerva to face what he knew would be an awkward conversation.

"Daniel McGonagall!" A booming voice arrested his steps. Could that be? Uncle Max? Daniel turned to see the familiar ruddy face attached to a particularly undersized body clad in resplendent purple robes. The shock was prolonged when Daniel realized that Uncle Max was no alone. In fact, Auntie Gina, Cousins Louisa and Fergus, Auntie Viktoria and a man that he barely knew but who introduced himself as Great Uncle Martin, all filed in behind the short wizard.

"I tell you, it has been _far_ too long, Danny boy," Uncle Max was saying as he led his clan into the living room. "So when dear old Annie here said that you had decided to throw a last-minute Yuletide get-together, well I jumped at the chance."

"Quite a lad he's grown into, hey, Louisa?" asked Auntie Viktoria, nudging her daughter sharply in the ribs. Louisa just flushed a deep shade of scarlet that made her round face look even more like a tomato than it had done before.

"Look, I really must be –" Dan started in an attempt to escape the now crowded living room. In his haste, he walked straight into a low-hanging Christmas decoration. He made to leave again but was sidetracked by Fergus, who seemed to be determined to interrogate him about his favourite Quidditch team.

"You see, I tend to back the Wilberton Wasps; their Seeker is just fantastic. I –"

"Look," said Dan, searching the room for the one person he wanted to see, "I need to get going. Terribly sorry." He slipped past the fervently-chattering form of Cousin Fergus and bolted for the doorway. So eager was he to find himself a great distance away from his extended family (who were generally _extended_ to keep them away from the cottage) that he almost broke into a sprint.

However, yet again, his mother was too fast for him.

"Danny, dear, could you help me in the kitchen?"

"Actually, mother, I am going to find Minerva." Annabelle's face twisted from polite insistence to badly-contained frustration; whether that was due to the mention of the younger witch's name or the fact that Daniel had actually refused her something, was unclear. Indeed, the mention of Minerva's name had caused a ripple of silence around the room and had arranged a suddenly curious look upon the face of Auntie Viktoria.

"I'll ask. Who's Minerva?" The rough voice came not from amidst the faces gathered in the living room, but from the hallway to which Daniel had just been trying to escape.

Framed against the wooden doorway was the slim body of Markus Bradley, a great friend of Daniel's since they had both been barely able to talk.

He had no idea how glad Daniel was to see him.

* * *

Minerva sighed as she packed the last of her belongings – her simple quill – back into the bag that she had brought with her. Hours earlier, she had realized that her being in Daniel's mother's house was just muddying the atmosphere. He did not need the added pressure of having to defend her from Annabelle. So Minerva would return home to meet her siblings and all would be forgotten.

It was not what she would have chosen, but it was needed.

Each step on the stairs was punching into Minerva's heart. She was not normally a sentimental being, but every fibre of her being was telling her to stay, to stop being ridiculous and to stick out the storm. This time, she would ignore her instincts.

* * *

Having spent the last few minutes trying to explain to those gathered in the house that their impromptu gathering had not been of his concoction and that Minerva would want to meet them all, Daniel had tried to escape. It had dawned on him that the impromptu gathering was probably a plot cooked up by his dear old mother, who was positively beaming as he was cornered once again by Louisa and Viktoria. When he had finally made his way to the door, he almost walked head-first into Minerva.

There was a flutter somewhere in the deep recesses of his stomach.

He had never been so happy to see her.

Then he spotted her bag.

The flutter was replaced by a dead weight.

"Min, what are you -" Her hand raised to his arm and stroked it tenderly. Dan's confusion was piqued as his eyes fell upon the pained expression on her face. His eyes met hers and he was hurt to find that her beautiful emerald green orbs were clouded with a sheet of unshed tears.

"I think I need to talk to you," her voice shook as she forced the words from her mouth.

"Oh, look!" squealed Annabelle, discreetly slipping a wand back into her pocket. "Danny's been caught under the mistletoe!"

Ignoring the chants of "Kiss" emanating from his family and friend, Dan grabbed Minerva's wrist – a little more forcefully than intended – and led her up the staircase that she had just descended.

Once they reached the bedroom, he closed and magically locked the door in order to offer them what little privacy was available in the cramped cottage. He seated himself on the bed next to Minerva and took her hands in his. Feeling the warmth beneath his fingers, Daniel had never thought something to be so right.

"Why?" he asked simply, knowing that she would understand.

"You do not need the stress, Dan. It is evident that your mother hates me – please don't protest because she truly does – and is determined to see me pushed far away from you. I will be doing you a favour." She pulled her hands away from his and fixed her eyes on the floor. The tear that escaped burned Minerva's cheek just as much as it burned Daniel's heart.

Now was his turn to raise a hand to her face. As he turned it towards him, he stroked her cheek with his thumb and whispered gently.

"You don't understand. I asked you here to help me and you are, but I find myself hardly worried at all about what my mother thinks anymore. I don't need you to help me anymore. I just need _you_. I need you for who you are because, Minerva McAllister, you complete me. Call me lovesick or cheesy or whatever you like… It's true."

Before she could reply, Dan looked skyward, pointing his wand at the ceiling above them. A sprig of fresh mistletoe materialized between them.

"Look; more mistletoe." He brought his lips down to cover Minerva's in a soft, loving kiss. When she broke their connection, Dan's heart dropped.

Minerva smiled. Dan frowned.

She captured his lips in a startling kiss that was passionate, tender, lustful and loving all at the same time. As she laid back on the bed, Minerva pulled Dan down to rest on top of her.

He had said that he needed her for who she was.

This was his chance to prove it.

* * *

_A/N: Again, I am so, so sorry for leaving this fic for so long. I hope there is still someone here to read it._


	7. Caught in the Act

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to __**greenlover2, **__who reads pretty much everything I write (though I've no idea why) and always leaves a lovely little review. Thanks muchly!_

* * *

The sun rose languidly over the Cornish coast, not that Daniel and Minerva could see its beauty. The latter was currently curled up in the embrace of the former, her waves of ebony hair splayed across his solid chest. Staring up at the ceiling, the two had taken to talking nonsense about anything that came to mind (from the Ministry to Honeydukes products) as if, by talking endlessly, they would prolong the gap between this blissful moment and their having to leave this room.

"I'm sorry," Minerva whispered suddenly, gripping Dan's hand almost imperceptibly tighter.

"Whatever for?" Dan was confused. This had been what she wanted, hadn't it? She had certainly had no objections earlier.

"For dragging you away when your entire family was downstairs waiting to see you." Dan chuckled both at his inane worries and at Minerva's ability to worry over even the smallest of matters.

"Trust me, you did me a favour." When Minerva wriggled to turn her face to his and lifted an eyebrow impossibly close to her hairline, he continued. "What I meant was that I would rather be here with you than listening to their headache-inducingly dull conversation. I mean, 'Oh, Louisa, have you _seen_Danny's new shirt?'" he said in a freakishly accurate parody of his own mother.

"'Oh, Danny, will you step away from that horrid girl and help me trim the roses. I'm afraid they've become _most _prickly.'"

"'Danny when will you find a nice girl? Mrs. Marsh keeps asking me whether I am quite sure that you are not a homosexual.'" They both fell about laughing like schoolchildren.

"Danny, where on earth are you hiding?"

"Oh, that was a good one, Min. You sounded just like her," Dan said, somewhat startled.

"I didn't say that," Minerva replied quietly.

* * *

Daniel pressed a finger to Minerva's lips in an attempt to calm her and prevent her from ruining their cover. Annabelle would come along, try the door, see that it was locked and that nobody was answering, and leave once more, assuming that he had gone out.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, there was a controlled knocking at the door, followed by a familiar voice:

"Danny? Are you up here? Where did you disappear last night? Danny?"

Annabelle's voice faded to a faint mumbling, which the pair assumed meant that she had shuffled off down the hallway to search some other room.

"That was close." Daniel shifted to lean over Minerva and placed sweet, soft butterfly kisses along her jawline. As Minerva wound her arms around his neck, they both froze.

The door clicked.

Paralysed, the couple awaited the inevitable storm.

* * *

As the door creaked open to its full extent, a rough voice sounded out.

"Bloody hell!" Daniel silently thanked every deity in existence that it was not the voice of his mother, as he had expected.

"Erm… good for you…" Markus smirked as he averted his eyes from the tangle of bedsheets and limbs before him.

"Mark! Am I glad to see you?" Daniel sighed with relief as he turned towards his friend.

"Woah there! I'm not going to join in if that's what you are suggesting because that's really not my cup of tea…"

A sharp cry came from somewhere outside of the bedroom: "Is Danny up there, Markus?"

Markus smiled at Dan as he slowly closed the door, leaving nothing behind but a quick wink in their direction.

"No. He must have gone down to the beach or something."

* * *

Sitting cross-legged on what little grass struggled from the ground outside the cottage, Markus Bradley and Daniel McGonagall were locked in a friendly conversation. It was early afternoon and the fragrance from the roses tinged the air with its sticky sweetness. Minerva had retired to the kitchen to help – yes _willingly help_ – Annabelle with cooking dinner. The extended McGonagall family had been sent home as soon as Annabelle had realized the night before that Daniel was avoiding them, but Markus had been allowed to stay and sleep on the sofa owing to the fact that he had concocted a false business plan to talk over with Daniel.

"So, this Minerva…" Markus trailed off quickly, expertly, even. He had always possessed a power to bring words and people – concepts so frequently paired and yet so oddly foreign to the other – together, a power that Daniel had never picked up but had always admired.

"What about her, Mark?" Dan asked cautiously, not willing to give his friend the upper hand in their conversation too easily.

"Is it serious?" Again, he kept his questions open to interpretation from the outside world and yet managed to keep them closed enough to be obvious to its recipient to what subject he was referring.

"Merlin, you sound like my mother."

"N_ever_!" Markus said in a tone of mock horror.

"I think it is, though," sighed Daniel. It was not a sad sigh, not a helpless sigh, but more the sigh of one who is more willing to drop off into a faraway world than to trifle with mere reality.

"What?"

"Serious. With Minerva and me, I mean." There. He had said it. His words were out in the world now and he would never be able to get them back.

And it felt glorious.

"Really?" Markus asked, eyebrows raised in a strange mirror of Minerva's. "Are you sure? You never seemed the type to, you know… settle down."

"I'm certain. Last night, I started thinking…"

"Careful; that doesn't normally go too well."

Ignoring his best friend's jibe, Daniel looked out over the rocky coastline. "I think I want to marry her, Mark."

Once again, the freedom he felt as the words escaped his mouth was indescribable. Those thoughts he had kept locked away in the hidden chains of his mind – even before this Christmas – had been weighing him down, although he had not noticed until now. Liberation was sweet.

The sweetness, however, was soured somewhat by his friend's skeptical look.

"I see… and just how pregnant is she?"

* * *

_A/N: Okay, this was a short chapter but I promise the next one will be longer. I just felt like this was an appropriate ending. Thank you all for your lovely reviews! Stay tuned for a shopping trip and some thorough testing as the countdown to a McGonagall Christmas continues! :)_


	8. Too Hot in the Kitchen

_A/N: This chapter is for __**McGonagallFan**__, firstly for sticking with the story and secondly for having one of the most awesome pen-names I have ever seen._

* * *

Annabelle McGonagall was happily tending to a large plate of chicken, while managing to keep one beady eye upon the girl at the other side of the room. Minerva was busily stirring a vast bowl, her arms working furiously to beat the mixture, her hair starting to work free of its messy braid. If there was one thing that Annabelle could not stand – and there were _plenty _of those – it was sloppiness in appearance, especially when one was not in one's own home.

Needless to say, she had moved no further toward approving of her son's newest love interest as she had to believing that the Chudley Canons would win this year's Quidditch cup. At first she had not believed, not truly, that her little Danny would choose such an infuriatingly _wrong_ woman to begin courting. But then, of course, there had been the kiss on the beach and their disappearing for hours together. She did not like Minerva McAllister one bit and, rest assured, she would be rid of the little leech by Christmas.

She only had three days left.

* * *

Minerva had a white knuckle grip on the over-sized wooden spoon in her hand. When she had volunteered to help Annabelle, she had been hoping that there would be magic involved; sadly that was not the case. _The Muggle way, it is, _she thought. Other than that, she had been hoping to show Annabelle that she really was in love with her son and that nothing the older witch could do or say would change that. In reality, however, the two witches had been tending to their separate culinary tasks in complete silence.

Eventually, Minerva had given up on trying to strike up a civil conversation due to the trite monosyllabic answers she would receive in return for her efforts. She now had her back to Annabelle. If anything could get her to talk, it would be Minerva's famous family shortbread.

_Well… not literally famous…_

* * *

Suspicious at the lack of shouting and crashing cutlery, Daniel bid goodbye to Markus and returned to the kitchen, where his mother would most certainly be scrutinizing his lover. _Lover_. Could he call Minerva that? It dropped so deliciously from his tongue that he was almost reluctant to let it go.

I was strange, he thought, that he had been thinking of asking Minerva to leave before she had cornered him in the hallway. It would have saved them all the hassle. Now, he lived for the hassle. Funny – is it not? – that a simple gesture can change one's mind so dramatically. One hand was all it had taken to convince him that he had not imagined what they had together. One hand. It was madness!

The sight that beheld him in the kitchen was miraculous, to say the least.

There was no blood, no limbs liberated of their owners, no gauged eyes, torn flesh or pulled-out hair. Minerva was removing a steaming tray from the oven, while Annabelle was on the opposite side of the room, fiddling with the dials of a wireless. Mangled notes from Celestina Warbeck mixed with the droning buzz of static.

"I swear that Warbeck woman has been going for years," Minerva said, apparently not noticing Daniel's presence. She added almost as an afterthought, "Shouldn't she be dead by now?"

"I'm sure she will be going for a fair few years yet, my girl," Annabelle returned in a tone that Daniel thought was just a touch more defensive than was socially expected of her.

"Yes, but you would think she would move out of the way for someone more talented."

"Someone younger, you mean?" Annabelle raised a questioning brow.

"If that makes everybody happy, then so be it."

"That is the way these days, is it not? Replace everything with something newer and shinier. As if the past never existed! As if Celestina Warbeck did not work _extremely_ hard to make herself and her family what they are today!" This was getting strange. As far as Daniel knew, Ms. Warbeck did not have a family.

"Well, perhaps if Celestina Warbeck refrained from mollycoddling her son, they could have been much more!" Now Daniel had begun to tune in to the fact that the two witches were no longer talking about Celestina Warbeck.

"She did the best with what she had!" Annabelle's face was growing redder by the second as she flicked her platinum hair in frustration. They were standing inches apart, nose-to-nose.

"And she failed miserably!"

Daniel was about to step in when he heard the harsh ringing sound of skin hitting skin. As Annabelle's hand met Minerva's face, Daniel could not stop himself from shouting out. Both women turned towards him in shock. His mother's hand was still raised, having left its ugly red mark on Minerva's cheek.

"Danny, I –" Annabelle stammered, her eyes as wide as Minerva's. This time, Daniel would not respond to her. He had had enough. He had seen red.

"I don't want to hear it, mother." He grabbed Minerva by the wrist and pulled her out of the kitchen.

Daniel started to think that perhaps his presence caused a lot of the friction within the house.

Damn.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Dan sighed, dropping his head into his palms. Those words had been said too many times in the past few days. Perhaps this was wrong.

"No, Dan. I'm sorry. I provoked her and I should have seen it coming." The brisk wind rushing against her face brought out a faint flush in Minerva's pale cheeks that disguised the mark she had just obtained. As the wind gripped stray strands of hair to play with, Dan could not help but notice how beautiful she looked set against such a rugged backdrop.

"I don't blame you," he said. "Except for the whole Celestina Warbeck extended metaphor thing. That, I blame you for. That was just terrible."

Their eyes met in an instant and before either could stop themselves, they were clutching at their sides and roaring with laughter. They laughed as though nothing had come between them, as though they were simply back in the office on a slow day, as though they were still covering up their true feelings with laughter. Once it had subsided and they were both reasonably controlled once more, Minerva graced Dan with a sympathetic smile.

"Look, are you sure it wouldn't be easier if I just went home?"

"Oh, it would be easier." There was a small interval of silence before Dan turned back, grinning. "It wouldn't be half as fun, though."

"So… what have you got me for Christmas, then?" Dan shot a cheeky grin at Minerva, while she continued to walk around the library, running her fingers along the spines of every volume she could reach. Her motion stopped suddenly. She turned, hands on hips, towards him.

"I cannot tell you that! It would ruin the surprise. Besides, I still have something else to get to finish it and you only have three days to wait."

"But three days is like an eternity for those who remain young at heart like me," he whined childishly.

"And the childish of mind, it would seem."

"That was uncalled for!"

"You started it." _Merlin, now she was starting to sound like a child_. "I don't suppose there's any Floo powder around here, is there?"

"No. I meant to get some more but it slipped my mind. Where do you need to get to, anyway?"

"Diagon Alley. I haven't finished with your present yet, remember?" Granted, she was teasing him now, but he deserved it; Minerva was not sure why, but he did.

"Diagon Alley? I have somewhere much better."


	9. An Evening Away From it All

_A/N: Sorry for the wait, I was too busy freaking out about the Pottermore quests. I shall be known as Riveroak101 from now on!_

* * *

_Apparation really is a pain in the neck… especially if you splinch yourself_. Having safely averted any splinching disasters, Dan and Min had arrived in a small, dark side-street in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps it was the natural paranoia that she seemed to have inherited from turning into a cat, but the place made her squirm.

"Sometimes, Daniel McGonagall, I really question your decision-making abilities," Minerva said, nervously peering around them.

"Oh, ye of little faith! Whatever will we do with you? Come on, it's this way." He pulled her towards a glimmer of light that reflected on the damp cobblestones.

"Oh, Dan," Minerva gasped as he led her out into a bustling high street. The street lamps thrust their amber glow upon the ground as a throng of Muggles worked their way around the rows of little shops. Minerva let her eyes fall closed when she felt warm tendrils of fragrance tickle her nostrils. It was sweet but tangy at the same time. A while passed before she recognised it as gingerbread, a favourite childhood snack of hers, drifting from a nearby bakery. _How very festive_, she thought.

Her eyes fluttered open once more and they fell immediately upon Dan, who was smirking at her look of wonder.

"Well, I couldn't just Apparate us into the middle of the street, could I?" He pulled her hand to rest in the crook of his arm and they began to weave through the Muggle masses, most of whom were making their weary way home from work.

It was early evening and the sun was only just peeking out from side of the Cathedral, playing hide and seek behind its never-ending spires. A few of the shops were beginning to close up on their last day of trading before the Christmas holidays, but the majority were still open.

"Why would you leave buying Christmas presents until three days before Christmas?" Dan asked as they made their way towards a little clothing boutique.

"I haven't left the whole present! There's just a little bit that I haven't finished." When he did not reply, Minerva continued. "I am not an idiot, you know."

Daniel turned his head to her in confusion. He would have been concerned were it not for the hint of a smile playing over her face, betraying the tone of her voice.

"I am not telling you what your present is. You shall just have to wait."

"Why must you torture me, woman?"

"Where exactly are we?" she whispered, anxious not to be overheard by the many Muggles still rushing to finish last-minute Christmas shopping. It would be odd for them to hear someone ask where they were when they should know automatically.

"A charming little place called Truro. Well, I say 'little' but it's actually one of the busiest places in Cornwall."

They spent almost an hour browsing Muggle shops. Daniel found himself relishing in watching Minerva pick up Muggle gadgets and look at them as if she were seeing them for the first time. _She probably is seeing them for the first time, _Dan thought in wonder. Very few Purebloods ever got out into the Muggle world. In that instant he felt suddenly fatherly, as if he were presenting the wide world to a child, which later disturbed him somewhat as he was only three years older than Minerva.

The couple were just exiting a mini emporium selling all kinds of wonderfully odd trinkets, when Minerva lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper once more.

"I don't suppose there are any '_special _shops' about, are there?"

It took him a moment before he realised that Minerva had meant wizard shops.

"Nothing as good as Diagon Alley because this place is primarily Muggles, but there are a few". They slipped into yet another slightly grimy side-street which housed no more than seven shabby-looking shop fronts. As they were about to cross the threshold of a wizard artefacts store, Minerva placed a light but forbidding palm on his chest.

"You wouldn't mind waiting outside, would you? It's just that I would rather you didn't get a chance to figure out what your present will be."

Regretfully, Dan assented and resigned to leaning against the stone wall, tapping his feet and nodding his head to the few people that trickled by. By the time Minerva finally emerged from the shop, Dan's stomach was complaining to him.

"All done, milady?"

"Why, yes, kind sir."

"Thank Merlin! Can we _please_ eat now? I am famished."

"Do you know somewhere?"

"Please, Min, I know _everywhere_… except Yorkshire. Don't ask me about Yorkshire."

* * *

It was a warm, inviting little restaurant with low lights and soft violin music. The smell of varnished wood and early-wilting roses laced the air underneath the faint, lingering cloud of cigarette smoke.

A greasy-looking waiter seated them at a cramped table in the corner of the restaurant, which invoked the slightest hint of claustrophobia in Minerva. _That will be the effect of spending too long in draughty old manors and wild moorlands, old girl_. When the waiter had decided that they had had long enough to peruse the extensive menus, he returned wearing a smile that he evidently thought was inviting.

"What can I get you, Sir? Madam?" he croaked.

"I think I will have the roast lamb. I hear it is the best in the area," Daniel added politely.

"Indeed, Sir. The best in the country, if you ask me." The waiter's face and drawling voice would suggest that he thought no such thing.

"And I will have the tomato soup, thank you," said Minerva.

"Very good, Madam."

"Really? Soup?" Dan asked, left eyebrow shifting towards his hairline.

"I need to warm up!"

"You should have said that you were cold; I would have given you my jacket." Fighting the imminent blush at his kindness, Minerva replied with an eyebrow raised.

"But then you would be cold and we would be in the same situation but upside-down."

The waiter, whose presence they had temporarily forgotten, cleared his throat audibly.

"Would Sir and Madam care for a drink?"

"Ah, yes. I don't know about you, Minnie, dear, but I could murder some red wine."

"That sounds perfect. Whatever type you have will be suffice, I am sure." She smiled at him in what she hoped was a convincingly polite manner.

"Will that be all?" The waiter asked impatiently.

"Yes, thank you," the couple replied in unison.

* * *

By the time their food arrived, piping hot, at the table, Dan and Minerva were already deep in conversation. They talked of work, of Quidditch, of hobbies and homes. With the constant rumble of other voices, there was little chance of them being overheard and, even if they were, they had been careful not to discuss anything that any passing Muggles may find a tad too out-of-the-ordinary.

They had exhausted several topics of conversation by the time they had finished their meal and both found themselves reclining in their chairs, losing themselves in the heady warmth of the wine. Daniel had spotted a couple, who were barely looking up from their dinner plates, across the way. He turned to his companion.

"What do you think their story is?" he asked, nodding in their direction. Minerva glanced up and then stared thoughtfully into her wineglass as she twirled it around in her fingertips.

"Hmm… He made a fortune selling useless inventions to Muggles and she is getting drunk enough to forget how much she hates her pitiful existence. Look, now she is saying 'well, that's fascinating, Gerald. Let me just cut myself with this napkin.'" Daniel was not sure whether it was the wine, the words or the ridiculously nasally voice that Minerva had adopted for the impression that made him laugh. Perhaps it was a mixture of the three.

"So, what do you think about those two?" Minerva indicated an annoyingly good-looking couple seated in close proximity to the well-stocked bar.

"He just met her at the bar and offered to buy her dinner. He thought he would try his luck, I suppose."

"Really? You think he picked her up at the bar?" Minerva asked with an obvious note of surprise to her voice.

"She looks like the heavy-drinking kind." Daniel smirked. Minerva did not dare ask how he had come to that conclusion. It had never been her inclination to seek out strangers for social benefit.

"I am fascinated. How would you go about picking up a stranger in a bar?"

"I would use one of my special lines, of course." This simple answer had Minerva intrigued.

"Special lines?"

"Yes, sparkling one-liners designed to have women buckling at the knees, either due to unbearable sweetness or terrible puns," he answered in a tone that almost suggested he had had a fair deal of practice.

"Let's hear some then."

"Hmm… here's an old Muggle one: 'Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?' Oh, here's one especially for you: 'I may not be an Animagus, but I can be a real animal.'" Minerva snorted. "Or there is the ever classic 'I've been whomping my willow thinking about you.'" Minerva's jaw dropped in a most unladylike way. Were her ears playing cruel – and quite disgusting – tricks on her?

"That is truly revolting."

"But it's supposed to be flattering," Daniel said, crestfallen.

"Oh, you have a _lot_ to learn." A playful smile lifted the corners of Minerva's lips as she lifted a delicate foot to rub the back of Daniel's leg. While he was shocked for a moment, he soon found himself revelling in the public physical contact. Now all the world could see that they cared for each other and that was all that mattered at that second. A little while later, when both had drained yet another glass of wine, Daniel bowed his head sadly.

"I truly am sorry, you know. I never meant for things to get so…" He trailed off, unable to understand himself why he had thought to bring down the mood of the evening with yet another apology.

"Don't apologize. I offered to help and so I must live with the consequences." They clicked their refilled glasses together lightly.

"Are you drunk enough to let me kiss you again?" he said.

"I don't need to be." Minerva leaned towards him and their lips met in a sweet but oh-so-short kiss.

"And you said I was cheesy."

* * *

_A/N: Just to point out, this was set when it was legal to smoke in public buildings in Britain! And I borrowed the "what's the story" concept from the movie Date Night, which I highly recommend but also do not own. :)_


	10. More Than a Little Inebriated

_A/N: Now, this is just a mini chapter to sate your appetites and cure my inability to write due to lack of sleep (it's currently five in the morning as I post this) but I promise a longer chapter will follow._

* * *

_Oh dear. _That was the only half-coherent thought that Daniel McGonagall could push through his pounding brain. His ears were buzzing and his legs would barely carry him, as if his torso had suddenly been transformed into granite. But the heat still running through his veins was more powerful than any amount of Firewhiskey in the world (and there was a fair amount of it tucked away in obscure corners of the Auror offices). He tried to force his mind over what had happened that night.

There had been the shops. He had definitely been shopping. And Minerva! She had been there, hadn't she? Had she? Yes. Yes, of course she had. But what… what else? _Think, Dan, think! _

Alleys… there had been a few of those; he only remembered because Minerva had been on the verge of hexing him for taking her in them. Oh, Merlin she looked good when she was angry. Maybe that alley could have come in handy - _Stop it, Dan! Now is not the time. You should be panicking and predicting your imminent doom, not salivating over a woman._ Speaking of this particular woman, where was she?

As if his thoughts had drawn a magnet to her, Dan became aware of something that sounded like a mixture of giggles and snorts somewhere to his right. _Was that…? No… she was not capable of emitting such a horrid noise, was she? Certainly not! Minerva McAllister was nothing if not painfully aware of public perception of her._

And yet, the slurred ranting that followed had an unmistakeable Scottish tinge to it.

"Dan? Dan!" the blotto whisper caught him somewhat by surprise. "DAN… a-are you," the words were now interrupted by a loud hiccough, "losten… listle… listening to me?"

"Sshhh!" He joined her in an uncharacteristic giggle as he placed a finger to her lips.

Where on Merlin's green earth _were _they? Forcing his addled mind to attempt to concentrate on his surroundings proved harder than Daniel would first have guessed. He _did _hear the distinct sound of hissing… no, wait… it was not hissing, but the breaking of waves as they forced their fleeting kisses upon the cliff faces. _Inebriation does conjure the strangest of similes. _It seemed that they had made it all the way back to Portreath in their… unfortunate state.

How they managed to Apparate that far while managing to avoid any splinching disasters, Dan would never know.

Ah, there it was! The far-too-undersized cottage on the cliff. Within minutes, he and Minerva had managed to clamber and stumble their way to the door. Suddenly, the few senses that Dan had managed to gather dissipated once more as he felt soft lips cover his, followed by a rather invasive tongue. Then there was the sweet tickle of alcohol-laced breath.

His hands were fumbling for the door handle and, in his intoxicated mind, there was absolutely nothing strange about it being unlocked at this ungodly hour of the morning. A welcoming gust of warm air hit the drunken pair as they tripped over the threshold. With Minerva still fastened to his lips, Dan moved further into the cottage, kicking the door closed behind him. When he unwillingly pulled away from her due to his overwhelming need for oxygen, she let out a soft whimper and all coherent thought was lost to him.

He pushed Minerva roughly so that her back collided with the wall. _Merlin, her hands were skilled._ They were roaming circles on his back when they were suddenly stopped mid-motion by a loud clearing of a throat.

For the second time that night, the words _'oh dear' _rose to the forefront of Daniel McGonagall's mind.

* * *

Annabelle was irate. Not just because of the fact that she had been roused from her bed at nearly four o'clock in the morning; oh no, the fact that her son – her little Danny boy – had returned in such a state with this… harlot. _No doubt the witch had forced more liquor into her poor baby's throat!_

He always had such terrible judgement when it came to women.

_Perhaps not always._

At that moment, the seeds of a plan began to implant themselves into Annabelle's brain. But, for the time being, she would have to settle for giving the girl a firm dressing-down.

* * *

Dan could hardly comprehend the words his mother was shooting at the pair, but he did notice how both stood a little straighter – or, rather, leaned a little less. Dan turned his head inconspicuously towards Minerva and he noted that her emerald eyes had widened to the diameter of saucers. Both he and Minerva were searching the recesses of their minds to find a trigger for instantaneous sobriety. Both failed miserably.

"What have you to say for yourselves?" Annabelle paused in her accosting of them to allow them to cobble together some sort of excuse. _Merlin, she made them feel like giddy teenagers caught in the act_.

Dan turned to face Minerva once more, this time fully meeting Minerva's eyes. For some reason known only to those who were on the wrong side of tipsy, a strange wave of capriciousness overtook the couple. They could not help but burst out laughing.

This, of course, did nothing to dissuade Mrs. McGonagall's rage. She was still shouting some rather choice words at them as they tumbled up the stairs. Not that they were paying particular heed to her words, that is. Somehow, Minerva had managed to lead Dan towards the spare bedroom with about as much grace as an ostrich on an ice rink.

When she tripped over thin air and landed flat on her face, Dan found that a smidgeon of clarity hit his mind. _Dear Merlin, was she hurt?_

His concerns were quieted, however, when Minerva rolled along the floor from where she had landed and began laughing her intoxicating laugh once more. He had no idea why – though he did not really have any idea why he was doing _anything _in this state – but Dan felt himself settle down next to Minerva on the wooden floor.

As a warm arm crept up his back, Dan found the thralls of sleep far too irresistible.

* * *

_Stop that incessant noise, will you?_

A never-ending, drilling at the base of his head was sounding loud and clear through his battered brain. Why, Merlin, must he be punished so?

_Because you were stupid enough to go out and get utterly hammered, that's why! _he thought sharply.

However, besides the hangover-induced headache, something else was troubling him. His back was stiff, as if somebody had injected his spine with a Straightening Solution. _Merlin, I feel old. What on earth happened last night? Why does the ceiling seem so far away?_

His final question was answered as he noticed that the furniture around him was stretching far above his head. _It seems that I ended up sleeping on the floor last night. _His next thought was to try to remember what he had done to Minerva to make her kick him out of the bed. That was when he recognized the warm entity lying beside him; Minerva had evidently ended up on the floor also.

_Oh, my head hurts. _

"Danny! There is a visitor here to see you." Annabelle's voice on the other side of the door was doing nothing to soothe his aching head.

_Merlin, not again_, he groaned.

* * *

_A/N: I do hope that the shameful overuse of ellipses in this chapter reflected the *ahem* intoxicated thoughts of our leading man, rather than making this poor writer look like an incapable fool._

_Next chapter: Who is the mysterious guest and just what does Annabelle's next scheme involve?_


	11. A Mysterious New Visitor

Annabelle McGonagall had had it with this little... tramp in this house. It was not her house, granted, but it might as well have been by the amount of work she had done in it. Merlin knows she would treat it as though it _were_ her own home.

The aforementioned house guest problem having been allowed to escalate had meant that dear Annie had taken it upon herself to dirty her own hands and get to work on removing this rather… unfortunate blot on her son's otherwise stainless existence. So, naturally, she was drinking tea with said blot, while watching her try vehemently to deny the raging hangover that Annabelle knew she was in the grips of.

"Are you quite sure you are alright, dear?" she asked in as motherly a tone as she could muster, while using her wand to turn up the volume on the wireless just that little bit more.

Minerva was gritting her teeth. _The noise. Why the noise? What was she saying? She should have been more concerned that Annabelle had probably poisoned her tea._

"Absolutely fine, thank you." She would remain the picture of serenity; she was aware of Annabelle's little game and had already decided - hangover be damned - that it was more fun with two players.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Perfectly, thank you. And yourself?"

"As reasonably as the lumpy spare bed would allow."

"Wonderful."

_Ah, finally, _thought Minerva. _I have talked her into a stalemate. Now for some much-needed peace and quiet._

Inevitably, t'was not to last.

A familiar whoosh sounded from behind the grate of the fireplace in the living room and was followed by a succession of quick heel clicks. Minerva noticed that Annabelle did not seem at all surprised by the smooth voice that rang out.

"Mrs. McGonagall? Annie, are you here?" It was a sickly sweet voice that dripped thickly like caramel. Frankly, the sound alone was enough to make Minerva want to vomit.

"In here, dear."

There was a short pause, in which the visitor was probably trying to determine their position relative to Annabelle's voice, before the voice's owner became apparent. An ethereal, pixie-like head popped around the doorframe and was rapidly followed by a short but slim frame. The woman had platinum blonde hair (rather like Annabelle's) that was cropped to make it look as though it were fitted perfectly to her face. Her cold grey eyes, which contrasted her bright red (and all too revealing for Minerva's tastes) dress, were swiftly sizing Minerva up. Minerva returned the sceptical sneer with equal ferocity.

The visitor swept into the room and engulfed Annabelle in a seemingly well-rehearsed and over-the-top embrace, and proceeded to plant a light kiss on each of the older woman's cheeks.

"Oh, it has been _far _too long. How_ are _you?" The odd inflections that were added to her words gave Minerva the distinct feeling that she was acting in some terribly written stage play. In fact, the tone was similar to the one which was commonly in use by Annabelle McGonagall. Minerva decided then and there that she had never had the misfortune to come across somebody so unnecessarily conceited as this mysterious new arrival.

Though, she admitted, the woman did have what others would no doubt view as a 'classic' beauty about her.

This whole situation carried the rancid scent of Annabelle and her schemes.

"Very well, dear, very well," the older woman replied. "Ah, Isobel, you must meet Minerva." Annabelle broke free from the young woman's arms and gestured towards where Minerva sat on the opposite side of the table.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Minerva murmured over her tea cup. Isobel only replied with a fleeting forced smile.

"I believe you had something that you wished to discuss with me," she asked Annabelle, now electing, it seemed, to ignore Minerva completely.

"Oh, yes!" replied Annabelle as if she had completely forgotten about ever suggesting such a thing. "Let me get Danny first, though; I am sure he will be positively over the moon to see you again."

If Minerva had been in Animagus form, she would have been hissing by now.

"Danny! There's a visitor here to see you."

With only two days until Christmas, Annabelle was sure that this time she would get the blasted girl to leave.

* * *

_A/N: I might have lied to you about this chapter being longer than the last, for which I can only hope you will forgive me. So, who is Isobel? All will be revealed next chapter!_


	12. Madness and Bubbles

Dan appeared in the kitchen clad in the same dishevelled clothes that he had fallen asleep in last night. _Merlin, he looked good when he was not trying, _thought Minerva. However, the look of astonishment that appeared on his face when the identity of the new visitor dawned on him sent waves of concern through Minerva's back.

"What are you doing here?" he asked the woman known as Isobel.

"Happy to see me, Danny?" The expression on Dan's face told her that he was distinctly unimpressed by her presence.

"Dan? Am I missing something?" Minerva asked concernedly. It was her turn to ignore Isobel now. "Who exactly _is_ she?"

"Nobody," he replied quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it almost sounded defensive.

"Oh, I would not call her nobody, dear," Annabelle butted in. "It is impolite and you _did _court for almost a year."

Minerva's heart sunk. He had dated _her_? In comparison, Minerva thought herself quite dowdy. Normally, she was a decidedly self-confident person, but when faced with somebody whose beauty was clear for all to see with no need to be interpreted, Minerva felt overshadowed.

"The operative word there being 'did'. In the past." Minerva found Dan's shock strangely reassuring, though she was unsure why. "What on earth are you doing here now?"

"Annabelle owled me and invited me over for lunch and I can never say no to your dear mother." Isobel's smirk was ingrained on the back of his retinas.

Dan could do nothing but stare. His mother. His mother had invited his _ex_-girlfriend to his home. What was she thinking? _Oh, of course, _he thought bitterly_, she was cooking up another diabolical scheme to come between him and Minerva_. But he was determined to ensure that she would not succeed; Minerva was the best thing to happen to him in far too long.

Perhaps, he concluded, it was time to send his mother to a home for elderly witches and wizards.

"Well, this is my house and I would like you to leave, Isobel."

"Now, now, Danny. That's not very polite is it?" Isobel asked, a childlike pout spreading across her face and – conveniently – drawing attention to her full red lips.

"If you simply _must _confer with my mother, you can do so somewhere else!" An apple red flush was now infecting Daniel's face. "Minerva, would you like to freshen up?"

It did not take long for Minerva to realise that he wanted the two to be kept away from each other, though whether this was to prevent them from getting to know each other or to keep one from cursing the other was unclear. Under any other circumstances, Minerva would refuse and tell him that he was being ridiculous, possessive even, but when she realised that she was also still wearing last night's clothing, she realised that it would reflect badly if she declined.

Wordlessly, she rose from the table, attempting to leave the room as gracefully as possible, and ignoring the other women. She grasped Dan's hand as soon as she reached him.

Now _that _would give them something to discuss.

* * *

Minerva perched on the edge of the surprisingly large bathtub as Dan waved his wand at it in an attempt to find a bearable temperature for the water. They had made it all the way to this point without uttering a word between them and now Minerva was unsure whether Dan's evident frustration was truly because of the _aguamenti _spell he had just cast to fill the bath, or because of Isobel's unexpected presence.

"Are you alright?" From the second the words rolled from her lips, Minerva knew that the question was redundant. If he was alright, he would not be using entirely the wrong spells to try to heat up the bath water.

When he did not reply, Minerva simply rose from her perch, waved her wand lazily at the water and moved to embrace him soundly. Daniel stood stiffly in her arms for a moment before melting into them entirely.

"Fine, honestly." Minerva was not willing to press him further, but, after a moment, he continued of his own accord. "It's just that sometimes I think that my mother is a madwoman."

"I think you are right." She did not intend for that particular thought to leave her mind, but she was not known for her ability to hold her tongue. It did, at least, earn a chuckle from her lover.

He stepped back then, his arms still around her waist, and raised a hand to brush away a stray strand of hair from her pale face. When he met her lips he could have sworn he tasted strawberries. _Much more pleasant than the alcohol taste from last night._

He had to admit that he was a little surprised when he felt Minerva's hand reach for the buttons of his shirt. She murmured something incomprehensible against his lips. The tickle of it made him feel giddy.

Mere seconds later, they were breaking apart. Hands feverishly searched for buttons and clasps. Clothing pooled on the floor. Skin touching skin. A strange burning somewhere within. Lips moving in a delightful rhythm.

"Milady," Dan said as they finally broke apart. He was repeated the action he had done when she had first agreed to help him with his unfortunate family issue; his hand was extended towards her and she took it, allowing him to help lower herself into the bath. The water line rose as the two of them sunk into it. Minerva watched the aftershock of waves as they were both engulfed in the warmth. Dan could not wander away from her.

He was slightly surprised when she bent over the edge of the bathtub and retrieved her wand. In a single complicated swirl of her wrist, Minerva had conjured masses of pearly white bubbles to rest upon the water's surface.

Dan, inflicted with a terrible disease that meant he was prone to ruining the moment, immediately began to writhe and splutter dramatically.

"Dan, what are you-?"

"So. Bloody. Tickly. Must. Splash. Attacker." He pushed his hands through the water, sending mini tidal waves at Minerva, who retaliated in the same fashion. They continued like children until both faces were dripping wet and both throats were hoarse from excessive laughter.

"Maybe this will make them more agreeable to you." With another flick of her wand, the bubbles gave off a rich, chocolatey aroma. Dan felt his eyes slide shut as he inhaled the scent deeply. A second later he felt something feather-light come into contact with his face and begin to fizzle slightly. He opened his eyes to find Minerva poised and ready to blow more bubbles his way.

They played this way for a while, larking about like children. Dan fashioned himself a strangely fetching bubble beard and used his wand to create bubble masterpieces in the air, from a cartoon elephant to a rather wicked image of a woman he insisted was Minerva, who smiled in wonder at his artistic efforts.

It was a long while before Minerva approached the subject that was still bothering her.

"So… Isobel? When did you…?" She did not even know how to continue.

"When did we split up? About a month after we left Hogwarts." Contrary to what she had expected, Daniel seemed to show no emotion at all. It was a mere statement of fact. What concerned her was that she could not tell if this was because he honestly did not feel anything towards her or because he was hiding his emotions. _Stop being so ridiculous, _she mentally scolded herself.

"May I ask why? I mean, look at her!"

"She was crazy." At Minerva's questioning look, he added, "After Hogwarts she pretty much followed me everywhere. Moved in to my flat, started to hang around with my friends, applied for the Auror training at the same time as me. She was rejected by the Ministry, of course, and when I got in she went mad. I mean stark raving bonkers. She started smashing up the flat and screaming, telling me that I should not accept the offer of a place on the training programme, that I should stand by her. When I refused she turned into a bit of a stalker and it wasn't long before I…"

Minerva was lost for words and that was an extremely rare occurrence.

"I-I apologize. I didn't mean to -"

"Oh, don't worry. I bet you have dated some strange men in your time. Not that I think you're creepy or easy or…"

"Stop digging yourself a hole, Dan. I can barely see you. And I _do_ like to see you," she said in a sultry tone. She shifted so that she was straddling his legs, causing the water to shift once more to make up for the sudden movement.

"I rather think I have a splendid view from here," Dan replied.

* * *

Almost an hour later, the couple returned downstairs feeling much cleaner and a little dirtier simultaneously. Their good mood, however, was ripped apart when they discovered Isobel carefully examining the photographs from the mantelpiece.

"Oh, there you are, Dan Dan! What took you so long?" Minerva mouthed the words 'Dan Dan?' at him with an eyebrow raised. Years later, she would come to liken this woman to Lavender Brown, but, for now, she was simply an annoyingly childish entity that refused to be removed.

"I was taking a bath with my girlfriend." Dan's directness almost caused Minerva to choke.

"Oh," Isobel replied airily, as if her face had not dropped by a foot when he said those words. "Is that who she is?"

Rather than replying with her favourite brand of verbal venom, Minerva decided to adopt an entirely new tactic.

"Isobel, how would you like to stay for lunch with us?" Both Dan and Isobel stared at her as though she had just declared herself in love with the Giant Squid while dancing a jig on the back of a Hungarian Horntail.

Isobel was the first to recover.

"That will be…" She turned her head now towards Daniel now. "Lovely."

_That was it,_ he thought. _He had fallen for another madwoman._

* * *

"Here, let me do that." Daniel plucked the metal whisk from Minerva's hands, ignoring her angry protests. "You are a guest in my home and I have let you do far too much already."

"Who said chivalry was dead?" Minerva smirked, eyebrows raised. Daniel performed a little mock bow and continued to beat the whisk through the thick white foam that was forming at the other end. She was eyeing him with an amused glimmer in her eye. "You don't cook much, do you?"

"No," he confessed. "I live almost entirely on toast and marmalade." Minerva was unsure whether he was joking or being serious. "What exactly is this, anyway?"

"It _will_ be a meringue. For the minute it is just an eggy mess. Did you put the pork I the oven?"

"Yes," he replied confidently; _that was one thing he could do._

"How long ago?"

"Erm… a while ago… I don't remember." _Or perhaps not._

Minerva rushed over to the Muggle oven and whipped it open. A burst of black cloud flowed into the air, choking both of them. When it had finally cleared thanks to a well-timed extraction charm from Daniel, they both peered down into the charred mess that was the main course.

"We could… salvage some of this," Minerva winced. "Maybe…"

"I told you I don't cook."

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I know the ex-girlfriend-who-pays-an-"unexpected"-visit-and-screws-everything-up thing has been done far too many times before, but Annabelle is not an original thinker (it's not that I'm lazy or anything). At least I didn't do the oh-no-he-touched-her-arm-therefore-he-must-still-love-her-thing. Note to readers: If I ever do use that particular plot device, strangle me through your computer screens, I beg you._


	13. Burnt Offerings

_A/N: For HannieJ, with wishes of good fortune._

* * *

Dinner was an awkward affair. If possible, it was more awkward than awkward.

The four sat in silence while they each hacked away at what remained of the cremated meat. Minerva caught Isobel sending Daniel glances full of venom and… was that _longing_?... from across the table on several occasions. Each and every time it made her blood boil in her veins.

"So, Annabelle, what do you think of the recent protests in the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts?" This was only one of many in a line of failed attempt at conversation-starters from Minerva, who was finding the silence particularly unbearable. She would generally receive a bland, monosyllabic answer.

This time, she was treated to an entire sentence.

"Women do not belong in politics, dear." A stunned silence on Minerva's part ensued.

"Excuse me?" If Minerva had previously held any respect for the woman (even if it were only because she gave birth to such a wonderful man), it had now evaporated.

"I don't think it is our place to be messing around in," Annabelle replied placidly, not looking up from her barely-touched dinner plate.

"'Messing around?'" The disbelief was now evident in her voice. "Is that what you think this is? Women have just as much a right to participate in politics as men!"

Daniel had taken up looking warily between the two; the situation was about to get volatile.

"I agree with Annabelle," added Isobel. "I believe that women should learn their place. _Real, _well-educated women should keep their conversations light-hearted and should not dwell on such matters."

"And I suppose that makes me false an uneducated, does it?" Any answer would have been dangerous at this point.

"I didn't say that, dear." Isobel's eyebrow raised as she lifted her glass to her scarlet lips.

"But you implied it." Minerva's eyes were narrowed now like a tiger preparing to pounce on its prey.

"You may take whatever inferences you like from my words."

"I see," said Minerva, perilously close to anger. "So you are one of these who are too spineless to say thing outright, are you?"

Isobel, for one, looked severely indignant.

"At least Isobel has the decency to be polite to her elders," spat Annabelle.

"Polite? That's what that is?" Her tone was now lofty but still held those poorly-masked traces of anger. "I thought she was brownnosing. Pardon me if I don't bow at your feet, Annabelle, but I do try to retain some level of respect."

"You fail miserably, by the looks of it." This was it. Another argument was breaking. Dan was determined not to see this one end in violence.

"I think we have deviated from the point," offered Daniel, daring to speak for the first time.

"On the contrary, I think we have hit it straight on the head," said Minerva. "Your mother clearly despises me for reasons unknown to myself." She turned now to Annabelle. "Yes, I can be abrasive, I can be too direct and I can be stubborn, but I can assure you that I have tried my utmost to be civil towards you, Annabelle. I find it near impossible to believe that a woman like you could have given birth to a man as wonderful as Dan! You come into his house, at Christmastime no less, and swan about like you own the place!"

"How dare you?" Annabelle asked disbelievingly. "How dare you come here and insult me? Do you honestly think that you are good enough for my son?"

There was a sudden crackle in the air followed by the unmistakeable sound of smashing china. The magic tingled at their skin. Searching the table for the cause of the commotion, the ladies' eyes fell upon Dan, who now had his head encased in his hands. His shoulders heaved with the effort of each breath.

The sight scared Minerva more than any dark wizard she had ever faced.

"Do you have anything other to do than to try to split Minerva and me up?" Annabelle's jaw visibly dropped, but Dan barely noticed; his veins were already alight with the blaze of adrenaline that came with speaking one's mind. Perhaps this was why Minerva chose to do it so often. It really was _intoxicating_.

"Split… I… so you are really…?"

"Together? In love? Yes. We are. And I would whole-heartedly appreciate it if you were to stop jeopardizing that." When there was no response from his shell-shocked mother, Dan turned to Isobel. "I think it is time you left, Isobel. You will find the Floo powder above the fireplace."

With that, he swept from the room.

Nobody else moved for a good while. When Annabelle began to murmur something about manners and started to gather up the used cutlery, Minerva moved from her chair also. She reached the door before speaking once more.

"Oh, and in answer to your question, Annabelle, I do not think myself good enough for your son. I have never met a man so inherently good and funny and caring and I doubt that I could ever measure up to that. But that's why I marvel every time he smiles at me."

For once, Annabelle McGonagall was gobsmacked.

* * *

Dan sat in his library, staring down at the words of an old book on dark wizards of the Middle Ages, but his mind did not register the words that his eyes saw. It had been a few hours since dinner and he had seen nobody since, save for Minerva, who had briefly told him that she would be upstairs should he need her. Apparently, she was working on his Christmas present.

Now, Daniel McGonagall had always doubted himself. He thought too much about every little thing he did and this, he would freely admit, was his downfall. It was stupid of him to ask for Minerva's help. It was stupid of him to bring her into this hostile atmosphere. It was stupid of him to let her pretend to be dating him. But then, he reasoned, if her had not, perhaps she would never have fallen for him. He had been helplessly in love with her for far too long, but he had never suspected that she felt the same until that day on the beach and, even then, he was not entirely certain.

Book carelessly set aside, Daniel twirled a little silver object around in his fingers. His eyes tracked the path of it hypnotic swirling circles until he barely felt his eyelids meeting.

When his eyes finally opened at eleven o'clock that evening, a smile graced Daniel's face. A silvery tabby cat was curled up in his lap. It gave a contented purr as Daniel stroked at a spot along its neck; it had become an urban legend of the Auror office that this was the only way to calm an irate Minerva McAllister.

The cat wriggled slightly before stretching its back up into an arch, sending its claws into the flesh of Dan's legs.

"Ouch! Watch the claws, will you?" A second later, a frowning Minerva sat in his lap.

"Sorry. Involuntary reflexes," she replied by way of explanation.

A calm period of companionable silence slipped between them. Dan felt Minerva's head nestle into his shoulder and he silently stroked a hand through her dark locks.

"Guess what."

"What?" her voice in his ear was tinged with excitement.

"It's Christmas Eve in an hour," he whispered conspiratorially, as if this were some tip-top secret. He was treated to a soft laugh.

"Oh, Dan, you are so childish," she berated him half-heartedly.

"You're only young once, but you can stay immature forever! That's my mantra."

"Don't talk to me about mantras; I've been hearing 'constant vigilance' since I was twelve years old!" _That is what happens when your parents are introduced to Alastor Moody._

"Decades ago, then?"

A light slap on his arm told of her annoyance, but it was betrayed by the small chuckle that followed it.

* * *

_A/N: Just found out that Isobel was Minerva's mother's name. What a coincidence. Oh, and I also apologize for the abundance of dialogue in this chapter. I hope it wasn't too dull._


	14. Christmas Eve

_A/N: Sorry for the length of the last chapter, I just thought if I cut it there then I could start afresh on a new chapter a little more quickly (it was starting to go stale in my head). Hopefully this chapter will make up for it a bit._

* * *

A groan and a flicker of eyelids revealed to Minerva the fuzzy view of the library and told her one thing; she had fallen asleep again. Through the haziness of that early morning, I-have-just-woken-up-please-don't-talk-to-me-or-I-might-murder-you feeling, she could just make out the results of the _tempus_ charm she cast. Eight o'clock in the morning.

Eight o'clock on the morning of Christmas Eve, to be exact.

Luckily, she had managed to put the finishing touches on Dan's gift the night before. _Speaking of Dan… where on earth was he? _Minerva raised her head further from the warmth of the cushioned armchair to take a better look around the room. Bookshelves, that was to be expected. Coffee table, check. Empty armchair, _where could he be_?

Raising her arms above her head, Minerva gave a feline stretch and wiggled her stiff legs when she inadvertently kicked something soft. Looking down, she found Dan staring back up at her, a book clutched in his hands.

"Well, there was no need for that, Miss Cheerful," he frowned up at her.

He had been lying at her feet, reading, for most of the night.

"Sorry," she managed to mutter through the yawn that contorted her features.

"That's…" Dan's words were interrupted by his own yawn, "quite alright. Damn, yawns are contagious."

"Stop…saying… yawn…" Each of her words were punctuated by yet another yawn.

"You… stop saying… yawn…"

It was a full five minutes before they had both recovered enough to have a normal, yawn-free conversation.

"Tell me." Dan, who refused to move from his spot on the floor, gazed up into her eyes like a lost puppy.

"Tell you wha - ?" The word had almost left her mouth when realisation struck. "Oh, I see what this is. You're still going on about your Christmas present, aren't you? Well, you will just have to wait." Dan's face was arranged to an expression of pain equal to one of a child being told that their parents had bought them a puppy and had then run it over with their Muggle vehicle.

"But I can't!" he pleaded.

"It's only twenty four hours away," Minerva replied, her voice tinged with guilt as she looked down into his puppy dog eyes, which had seemingly been perfected over years of practice.

"Well, if we're going to be pedantic about it, it's actually sixteen hours away. In any case, that is too long!"

"Well, then… maybe I can find something to occupy your time until it comes around," she sent a sultry smile his way and he could not help but raise a brow in reply.

"Is that a promise?"

* * *

It was cold, too cold. If there was one thing Annabelle disliked about her son, it was his constant need for warmth and hence some sort of fire or heating charm. But there was a definite chill in the air, which, as much as it pleased her skin, made her mind instantly suspicious. That meant that either he was not in the house or that he had spent the evening in deplorable company.

With the look of that McAllister girl, it was probably the latter.

_Loose knickers, that one. _

At first, Annabelle had doubted that they were actually together; they were far too _awkward _together. Oh yes, Annabelle was much more observant than most people thought her. The first time she had suspected something was when she had looked out over the rugged coastline, as she was wont to do on clear mornings. There was something about the strangely raucous waves against the calm of the beach that left an odd tingle in her throat; it had taken her years to realise that the feeling could be attributed to tears trying to escape.

It had taken her still longer to realise the reason for them.

But, the day she had looked out to find the scene obstructed by a figure gliding across the beach, she had felt only curiosity. Moments later, when she had identified the figure as her son's supposed love interest, the boy himself appeared. She had watched them kiss, seen the slight trace of discomfiture between them and had thought that it was probably their first. Annabelle had expected it to come to nothing. In fact, she had expected the girl to leave soon after, but she was surprised once again.

Annabelle never had much time for those who were constantly surprising people with some hidden aspect of their personality; she much preferred people to be forthright about themselves. It avoided so much unnecessary conflict.

And this one certainly did enjoy conflict.

It was after the 'reunion' – as she now called it – that she had grown truly resentful of Minerva McAllister. She had been unable to find her son for hours, but she knew exactly why he had gone. He would try to stop _her _from leaving.

The mistletoe that she conjured had been a test for them both. Annabelle had expected the pair to kiss, to feel the need to prove themselves to the family, but it seemed she was mistaken. She had no doubt, however, that her son had disappeared with that girl and it truly made her angry. _How dare this little harpy come and take her son away from her?_

People had been taken away from her far too easily before now, but she was damned if she would let that happen again.

* * *

Minerva was just pulling on a creamy silk shirt when the warmth of Dan's body suddenly appeared behind her. His hands held her elbows so that she could not finish buttoning the front.

"Can I help you with that?" his voice was rich as dark chocolate in her ear.

"I can assure you, I am fine," she said solidly. "If you had your way, I am certain that I would never get this shirt back on."

"Are you a Legilimens or something?"

They were interrupted by a loud knock at the door… in fact, it sounded like several knocks. With a groan, Dan relinquished his grip on Minerva's arms and shuffled off towards the front door while Minerva finished making herself presentable.

Upon opening the door, Dan was shocked to find half of his Auror colleagues standing outside of his door.

"How did you lot get here?" It was not exactly polite, but it was the first question that came to his mind and he was not accustomed to gaping in silence like an idiot.

"Portkey," explained Alaysia Grenfell, gesturing vaguely towards a discarded bicycle tyre in the garden.

"You had better be getting rid of that thing; I'll get murdered if it gets too messy."

"That's the idea," smiled Aeron Dearheart, a greying wizard with a permanent grin across his features. "You know, you should really stand up to your mother, Daniel. It's not her house; if you want rubbish in your garden, you _have _rubbish in your garden."

"So… are you going to let us in or are you going to shut your poor friends out in the cold?" Alaysia asked.

"Ooh, decisions, decisions," Dan muttered, rubbing his lightly-stubbled chin intently.

"I've had enough of this," growled Moody, pushing Dan away roughly.

"Charming!"

"That's Alastor," said Minerva as she appeared at Dan's shoulder. "What are you lot doing here?"

"Well, we heard there was some loving going on and we didn't want to miss out on it."

"So help me Merlin, I will fire you all."

"I can see it now; Minerva McAllister, one-woman dark wizard stopping machine!" said Aeron. "You could vanquish them with your trademark cutting remarks; 'Oh dear, you do know that black robes are _so _1843, don't you?'"

"Very funny," Minerva replied sarcastically.

"So," began Alaysia, following Alastor's lead and barging into the cottage, "who's up for tea and bickies?"

"Whose house is this?" Dan asked, bemused.

"Min, did you make shortbread yet?" When everyone looked questioningly at Alastor, he shrugged and added, "She does it whenever she stays away from home. Weird quirks, don't you love them?"

"There's something for you to get used to, Dan, my man," said Thalia May, who had until now been silently standing behind Aeron's sturdy frame.

"You might as well come in, it's not like the others are just going to leave any time soon," Dan sighed.

"Libation for the Goddess Minerva," joked Alastor, handing her a cup of tea as she walked in the door and then repeating the action for Dan, Aeron and Thalia.

"So…" said Alaysia, looking pointedly from Dan to Minerva. "Spill all."

"About what?" Dan feigned confusion.

"Don't give me that, Daniel! About you two, of course, you lovely little idiots." _Poor choice of words._

"Call me an idiot one more time and you won't see your next birthday," Minerva said irately. Her hand flinched involuntarily towards her wand and she had to stop herself from picking it up. Her famous temper would have to be subdued for now. _Imagine what Annabelle would think if she walked in to find a stupefied Auror on the floor. _Speaking of the dragon lady... where did she go?

"Yes, yes, threat duly noted," Alaysia waved it off with a simple hand gesture. "Just give me some gossip please! I have been starved of it since we left the office."

"That was four days ago," Dan said reservedly.

"Yes, but I thrive on the stuff, so humour me, will you?"

Dan and Minerva shared the glance of two rabbits caught in the headlights.

* * *

Three hours later, the Aurors finally vacated the cottage. Of course, that was only after trying to ring every sordid detail out of the severely red-cheeked couple. What concerned Minerva most was the lack of Annabelle.

She only appeared twice (each time, refilling teapots and leaving again) and barely spoke unless addressed. _Most peculiar_.

Whatever could she be planning?

Never mind, Annabelle, Daniel had spent the last quarter of an hour fiddling with something that Minerva could never quite see. All she could make out was the odd glimmer of silver every now and again as the light caught the trinket rolling round his fingertips.

Whatever could _he _be planning?

Sometimes, Minerva wondered why her life had to be so complicated.

* * *

_A/N: You have no idea how many times I yawned while I wrote that chapter._


	15. The Penultimate Chapter

_A/N: I'm back from holiday so here's another update!_

* * *

Minerva sighed as she felt something cold collide with her shin yet again.

"Dan, if you must insist on staying up all night, could you at least keep still?" she snapped. "Some of us normal human beings need sleep to function."

"Sorry, I fail to see your point; there are no normal human beings in the immediate vicinity." Alright, so perhaps she had deserved that one. He rolled over so that he was now lying on his right side, his nose perfectly in line with hers.

"I turn into a cave-dwelling hag if I don't get my eight hours a night," she said, her face stoically fighting back laughter.

"Oh, so you get better when you're sleep-deprived?" His question was followed by the dangerous pursing of the lips that Minerva reserved for only the most aggravating of Alastor Moody's practical jokes (or, rather, those which were aimed in her direction).

"Daniel McGonagall! How dare you?"

"Sorry. I'm just so excited!" he groaned, turning once again to lie flat on his back.

"You are such a child," Minerva replied huffily. She realised too late that the very way she had spoken had made _her _seem like the child in the room.

"And you are very repetitive."

"I thought children liked having structure in their lives," she replied sniffily.

"Not when it gets boring, though." In later years he considered himself unnaturally fortunate for having survived this particular exchange.

"Oh, boring now, am I?" The twitch in Minerva's cheek made Dan nervous.

"No, of course not –" But he had already dug himself a hole deep enough to bury an elephant.

"Because, if you really think so, I can remove myself from this bed and retire to the sofa in the living room."

"But if you did that I wouldn't be able to do this." His hand reached for her face, caressing her cheek with rough fingertips.

* * *

It was still dark when Minerva opened her eyes again, a fact that she appreciated. She always felt more festive when it was dark outside for it made her feel, somehow, more inclined to snuggle up by the fire with a nice cup of tea, to watch the light dropping like snowflakes into onto the tinsel. Through bleary eyes, she saw that Daniel was playing with something that looked to be silver by the way it gleamed as it caught what little light trickled into the bedroom. Minerva did not get a chance to guess at what it could be, however, because he must have sensed her stirring; he concealed it swiftly, with all the skill of a Muggle magician.

"Good morning, Sleepy," he grinned.

"Have you… have you been to sleep at all?"

"Not for a minute." With a tone like that, you would think it was the most natural thing in the world for a grown man to stay up all night on Christmas Eve. Yet, for not sleeping a wink, his face barely showed a sign of fatigue. _The lucky sod_.

"What was that you were playing with a minute ago?"

"Nothing. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too -" Daniel silenced the question she was about to ask by placing his lips against hers with a little more force than he would usually employ. As he had expected, when they pulled apart and gazed at each other as the old cliché goes, Minerva was rendered temporarily speechless. That was chance enough for him to escape her impending inquisition.

"Can we go and open our presents now?"

Minerva chuckled lightly.

* * *

Minerva plucked a silvery parcel from beneath the vibrant green fir tree, handing it to Dan with a smile on her sharp features. Ripping at the wrapping like an incensed puma, Dan quickly found the gift to be a weighty book.

He pulled back the heavy leather cover of the thick tome, revelling in the smell of fresh parchment that radiated from its pages. But it did not take long for the pleasant smell that brought to mind that library and those bookshops, in which Dan had spent long hours of his life, to be replaced by a thick aroma of baked shortbread as he turned the page. Another turn of the page presented the familiar, slightly musty smell of the Auror Office. The burning of wood in the fireplace. A light, nutty smell that reminded him of Minerva.

"It's a memory book," Minerva explained, smiling at the sight of him holding his nose so close to the pages. "Sort of like a Pensieve, if you will, except you can use this to record sights or smells or sounds."

"How did you…?"

"It took a long time and a huge amount of correspondence with Professor Flitwick at Hogwarts, but I managed it."

"You made this?"

She nodded her head proudly. Daniel was genuinely flabbergasted. Minerva continued:

"If you ever want to record something, tap it with your wand and say '_memento'_."

Dan turned another page. This time the smell of parchment had returned, the previous aromas fading to nothingness. Just as he was about to move onto the next page, thinking that this was merely a blank one, a blend of inky splodges began to materialize in the centre of the page. The colours merged and separated and waltzed, coming together and moving away just as quickly, until they formed a single image. The alabaster face and ebony hair were instantly recognizable. The image of Minerva smiled straight at him, pressed her hand to her lips and blew a kiss to him.

It was gone in a second but its impression lingered.

The woman herself, not the mere painting but the real flesh-and-blood portrait, was smiling at him over the pages. A laugh, light and contagious, sounded from her lips.

"_Memento,_" Dan whispered so as not to alert her suspicions.

That laugh would see him through some of the darkest times he would ever experience.

"Alright," he said, bringing the covers of the book to meet. "Enough of me; here's your present." He pulled from beneath the tree a small wooden box. Minerva's forehead creased in that endearing way that she was unconsciously prone to as she examined the box. "It won't bite. I promise."

Cautiously, she opened the lid and plunged a wary hand into its gaping mouth. Her face relaxed noticeably as she pulled out something soft; a knitted scarf of alternating black and white with a little tartan magpie stitched on the end of it.

"Oh, Dan," she cried, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

"You _do _support the Montrose Magpies, don't you?" He was feigning anxiety for the entire office knew of their boss's obsession with the Scottish Quidditch team.

"_You do not simply support the Magpies, Alastor," he remembered her saying to Moody on a particularly dull afternoon, "You __**are**__ a Magpie." _

"_Just as long as you don't sprout wings on us, you can be whatever you want," Alastor had replied, laughing heartily._

"_So you are perfectly fine with fur and tails but wings are taking it too far? Honestly, I will never understand you, Moody."_

The banter - apart from the duelling - was Daniel's favourite part of the job. Well, you have to be cheerful when you're not fighting dark wizards otherwise you fall into depression; that was the main reason the Auror Office had a staunch reputation for being the most jovial of all Ministry Departments. They had no choice.

Shaking himself back to the present, Dan said:

"You're not finished yet."

"There's more?"

"No, I am just trying to confuse you," he replied sarcastically. "Of course there is more!"

A box of ginger newts, a single red rose, an enchanted snow-globe, a book of complex transfiguration theory and a silver hair grip later, Minerva pulled the final item from the box. A teddy. A _kitten _teddy. A _tabby_ kitten teddy. A _fluffy _tabby kitten teddy.

Fluffy.

What in Merlin's name was he thinking?

"Really?" she asked incredulously.

"_I_ thought she was cute," he replied defensively.

"_She_? You are aware that it is not real?"

"Just because she doesn't move, that doesn't mean that she is not real. And you are hurting her feelings by calling her 'it'." _Was this man mad?_

"Then what shall I call _her_?" asked Minerva, placing particular emphasis on the last word, if only for the sake of saving a disagreement.

"Minnie."

"What?" Dan was tempted to tell her that the correct word would have been '_pardon', _but bit his tongue.

"Minnie," he repeated steadfastly.

"Why?"

"She looks like you… only cuter."

"I wonder if her claws function." Minerva grinned slyly.

"Way ahead of you; I had them trimmed."

"You are crazy."

"You finally noticed?"

"Well the fact that you keep talking about a child's toy as if it has feelings did give it away somewhat."

Dan placed a hand over his wounded heart and spoke into the kitten's ear. "Don't listen to her, Minnie. She doesn't know what she's saying."

Of course, Annabelle took that opportune moment to appear from her chamber of all-consuming darkness.

"Started without me, have you?" she said in her all-too-perfectly-articulated way.

Minerva stood, handed her a purple package and said:

"Merry Christmas, Annabelle." And the two shared a smile.

* * *

After a surprisingly cheerful Christmas dinner including festive crackers with terrible Muggle jokes inside (the majority of which Annabelle did not understand) and piles of vegetables, the trio were certainly struggling.

"Right, well… I suppose I had better do the dishes then," Dan sighed, his stomach full.

"Oh, I'll help you," said Minerva, raising herself from her chair at the dining table.

"No, no! Mother will help me, won't you?"

"Honestly, Dan! Don't make your mother do everything. I really don't mind helping."

"No, I insist! Come on, Mother." Dan turned to his mother, who replied immediately.

"Minerva said she will help; I don't see why you need me to -" The look he directed at her silenced any protests the older witch had. Annabelle reluctantly followed her son into the kitchen, leaving Minerva alone to ruminate by the fire.

It was strange… she had never been one to doubt herself or her convictions, but this Christmas seemed to have changed that. This Christmas had changed a lot of things. But it was almost over and, before long, the glorious bubble Minerva had encased herself in would be obliterated. She found herself wondering whether this would ever work in the real world. Would everything be the same?

Dan was wonderful, remarkable, and Minerva had been surprised by the sheer depth of the feelings she developed for him. Feelings, she thought, that he seemed to reciprocate.

But are feelings enough?

Can feelings breach the stony barriers erected by the world? Can feelings build a wall against the brutal attacks of reality? Can feelings block out the idle talk of the jealous Ministry employees from other departments?

No.

But love can.

And love is what she believed they shared.

"Minerva?" Dan's inquisitive voice plucked her from her reverie. "Can I talk to you?"

* * *

_A/N: One chapter left, dear readers, until we reach the end. I hope you have all enjoyed the ride._


	16. You must always ask

_A/N: We have finally reached the end, my friends. I thank those of you who have read, reviewed and perhaps even enjoyed this story._

* * *

"Well, I daresay you _can_ talk to me but I doubt you need my permission for that." He raised a brow as he was so accustomed to seeing her do. Minerva bit her lip; she was always sarcastic when she was nervous. It was something of a defence mechanism and it had served her well to this point.

_The inevitable end has come, _she thought. _It was jolly good fun while it lasted. Who am I trying to fool? Let me just go and cry in the corner. Good day to you._

Never in her life had Minerva been so affected by the opinion of a male – or a female, for that matter – but now she felt her knees would buckle were she standing upright rather than kneeling on the floor. As Dan took her hand to help her to her feet, Minerva caught a glimpse of his eyes through the thick curtain of hair that was conveniently concealing her unhappiness. She could not decipher what she saw there.

This was definitely the end.

Of course, she had been expecting it to a degree. Normality was a great destroyer of romance. Minerva had suspected that the reason Daniel had been attracted to her in the first place was because of the relative danger of their situation. Two Aurors, protecting each other from dark wizards and his own mother, while carrying on a secret love affair (though it had turned out to be not that secret at all following the visit of their colleagues). Suddenly the draft prodding at the edges of the flames was much more evident in the air.

"Are you quite alright?" True concern was evident in those deep tones and it elicited true fear from Minerva.

She could do nothing but nod, only serving to strengthen Daniel's look of trepidation. However, he seemed determined to go on.

"Minerva…" he paused, collecting himself. Then, after a deep breath, he continued. "Do you remember the day we first met?"

She raised an eyebrow. As she remembered it, it had been her first day as an Auror.

_Minerva McAllister stepped out of the elevator in her brand new navy robes, ones she quite disliked by the end of the day, and was confronted by a light gust of air about her face. Daniel, of course, had caught this and would soon attribute her almost angelic look to it. Minerva had gazed about, seemingly lost in the vast atrium._

"_Can I help you?" A soft voice said in her ear._

"_No, I am perfectly fine, thank you," she replied coldly, still looking around her. Strange, how she could take such cold words and melt them into a polite turn of phrase. Her years at Hogwarts had given her an odd reaction to the world; she spoke as though she had no desire to interact with people and yet, in gesture, in visage, she welcomed them openly._

"_Yes, it certainly looks like it," the man at her shoulder replied lightly. She turned to face him now and was satisfied to see a man whose voice fitted his appearance. Plain black robes to match neat dark hair and a pleasant countenance. Then her gaze fell upon warm eyes and she was captivated. It infuriated her. She was never like this._

"_Excuse me?"_

"_You must be McAllister, the new Auror." It was a statement of fact, rather than a question, Minerva later decided. "You are not at all what I would have expected."_

_What on earth could they expect from a name? Unless, of course, they had some sort of Divination fanatic on their team. Minerva was certain that she would detest it if they did._

_No, she scolded herself, this is your first real job. You must endeavour to enjoy it._

"_Sorry to disappoint," she said simply._

"_Not at all; we have heard great things about you."_

_A faint blush spread across her pale cheeks she cast her eyes towards the floor. It was not his words that got her, more the fact that he seemed to truly mean them. His eyes showed that._

"_I would not get your hopes up too far; I may never live up to them."_

"_Oh, I think you will."_

"When I walked into the office wearing those awful navy robes? Of course I remember. You don't plan on borrowing them do you? Because I would be quite worried if you did."

Despite himself, Dan let out a low chuckle. Why would Merlin make someone who could be so cute when they were confused? Which was quite a rare occurrence, truth be told.

"I liked them… but not that much. Anyway, this isn't about your questionable taste in clothing."

"Thank Merlin! We'd be in for a long debate if you had."

"Well, that was the day I knew…" He paused. A troublesome lump had risen in his throat and lodged itself there.

"Knew what?" she asked innocently.

This was it. He was at the cliff edge, ready to dive. He was taking the plunge.

"I knew that I wanted to be with you, that I wanted you like nothing I had ever wanted in my life. You had this… this _mystery_ about you. And elegance! How is that possible for someone fresh out of Hogwarts? I swear the amount of heads that turned could have displaced an ocean. And your hands. My, those hands. Are they actually solid? When you duelled with Al in that training session… Merlin, I've never seen such grace; I was mesmerised. And I have been ever since. Minerva, I never thought that I would be lucky enough to ask you anything like this but here I am. Will you marry me?"

A modest silver ring was plucked from his pocket and presented to her. It was simple, elegant, crowned by a single emerald stone.

"I… I… what?" Minerva, understandably, was at a loss for words. This was not at all what she had anticipated. Nor, she reasoned, was any of this.

"Well, I won't repeat the whole thing again, but the general gist of it is that I love you," he smiled sincerely. "I love you and that is that. So I wondered whether you would consider becoming my wife?"

Annabelle had emerged from beneath the doorframe, wearing an expression that was almost unreadable. Almost as if she were hiding a smile. But that could not be right.

There was a moment of pregnant silence.

An _agonizing_ moment of silence.

In an instant, Dan was engulfed by a surprisingly strong pair of arms, almost knocked to the floor with the unexpected weight that he was confronted with.

"I take it this is your way of saying 'yes'?"

"Yes, yes, yes," she squealed (a very un-Minerva like thing to do).

Annabelle slipped from the room silently, whether to give the couple a moment's privacy or to hide that pesky smile creeping over her features, Dan would never know. That, of course, did not stop him from insisting that it was the latter and proceeding to use it mercilessly against her whenever the occasion allowed.

And then there was Minerva. She smiled for the rest of the day. In fact, first thing on Boxing Day morning, she asked whether she was dreaming. Then there was that radiant smile again.

To think that this – and much that was to follow – spawned from a single question was extraordinary. Well, it only goes to show that you must always ask for help when you require it. You never know, you may just get a little more than you first expected.

_Finite Incantatem._

* * *

_A/N: Did anybody guess that the silver trinket Dan was playing with was a ring?_


End file.
